


invisible string

by dearmoonlight



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:33:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28798428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearmoonlight/pseuds/dearmoonlight
Summary: In public, he seems somehow unapproachable, bathed in the spotlight. And Tetora watches him from afar, hands made into fists as the first years from Ryuseitai share worried whispers in the background.But there’s no one else now.So here, Tetora’s fingers dig slightly into his knees, and Tsukasa’s breath hitches.
Relationships: Nagumo Tetora/Suou Tsukasa
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	invisible string

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this months ago for Nia's birthday.  
> (Hey Nia, I love you!)

Tetora sighs, running his fingers through his hair as he tries to get the tension off his shoulders. It doesn’t help. The adrenaline of the concert is still running through his body, making him feel shaky and unstable. It not a normal occurrence anymore - used to, when he was a newbie just following on his senior’s footsteps. He likes to think that he has changed since then, though. Matured. Grow into himself, or whatever. But his heart is beating like crazy against his ribcage, trying to escape his chest through his mouth. 

“I can’t believe” he whispers, and lets out a shaky breath. “that it was a  _ tie _ .”

He starts walking away, just because keeping his muscles in motion helps him clear the foggy state of his head. The sweat from the live is starting to dry off into his skin, and he knows he should go straight to the shower, but-

“Of course it was. You should have won the next  _ round _ , if I might say.”

Which he didn’t. But that opinion, at least, is not unwelcome.

He turns. Tsukasa is working on the laces of his boots, and he doesn’t even look up to him. There’s still something soothing in his presence, even if Tetora can only see the crown of his head, locks of red hair hiding his face.

“You really think so?” he says, trying not to sound too excited. He fails, spectacularly so. Tsukasa is not one to praise in vain, prideful in a way that seems to be inherent to Knights, and so his words always hold a special kind of weight.

“Don’t expect me to repeat myself again” he warns, laces still half undone under his fingers. He twist them in the wrong way, and there’s a frustrated sigh coming from his lips before he goes on “But yes, your performance was prodigious today. Shinobu-kun has been giving you extra classes on choreography, has he not?”

“Yep!” Tetora’s voice almost sound like a chirp, excited and too happy for a casual compliment. He can feel the post-live energy starting to wear off already, even if his whole body still feels itchy and bouncy. “Next time we face you guys on stage, we’re kicking your asses for sure!”

Tsukasa’s head snap up at that. Tetora didn’t mean it as a threat or a challenge, not even playful banter - it was just a statement, a way to pump himself up. They’ve lost to Knights three times in a row since the start of the year, but he’s sure that streak is about to break. His new members have been working themselves to the bone lately, and they're starting to get the kicks right. It's a matter of time until they can face off against Knights.

“Excuse my rudeness,” Tsukasa says, which is always the prelude to either a snarky or a bratty sentence. “but we are the ones marching into  _ battle  _ against the ones that spilled your blood.”

“Do you have to be that dramatic?” Tetora groans, letting his head fall back, gaze falling upon the ceiling - there’s a spot of humidity right there, someone should probably tell the school about that. Tetora makes a mental note to talk with Shinobu later, so he can tell Isara-senpai.

Tsukasa doesn’t answer, whole attention centering again in the complicated knots of the boots. Tetora looks at him (that focused expression makes him look surprisingly young, almost as if he’s about to stick his tongue out in concentration) and feels his heart, that was starting to slow down again, pick up the pace. It’s stupid. Their whole relationship is.

He walks to Tsukasa anyway, kneeling before him. He flinches, surprised, and his eyes turn impossibly bigger when Tetora forcefully takes one of his legs and places the boot on his knee.

“What are you…?”

“It was starting to get painful to watch.” Tetora cuts him, starting to work on the laces himself. He can feel Tsukasa’s gaze upon him, but neither of them talk for a little. Tetora has learned to appreciate the silent moments, when it comes to them.

The problem is that both of them have too much weight upon their shoulders. The problem is that they’re not even seventeen yet, already leaders of their own units, already fighting their places into Yuumenosaki’s top, into the industry’s opinion. Already trying to be as great as their units deserve, trying to fill hollow spaces that feel too big.

The problem is that they’re both too eager to please their seniors (their  _ family _ ), and that makes them rivals over the stage. Sometimes off it, too. And Tsukasa is stubborn, childish, even a little malicious under that courteous exterior of his.

And even a bigger problem? Tetora likes him. Maybe a little too much.

“Man, who decided that you should wear this thing? It’s like a goddamn puzzle of laces.” he whispers between his teeth, eyes fixed on the mess of knots under his fingers. He’s not seeing Tsukasa’s face, but he can almost physically feel him put on an offended expression.

“They are sophisticated and  _ graceful _ .”

“Yeah? Well, not lookin’ so sophisticated failing to tie your own laces now, are you?”

Tsukasa stutters, insulted, and Tetora chuckles under his breath. He looks up to find purple eyes throwing daggers at him from a flushed, aggrieved face. He kind of wants to kiss the pout off his lips.

He wonders, briefly, when did exasperation and competitiveness turn into this...fluffy, fizzy soft feeling swelling in his chest that makes him light-headed.

He ends his work with a bow. The boots are knee-length, and Tetora’s fingers rest just there for a second.

In public, Tsukasa is always composed, always perfect.

In public, he flashes smiles at the fans and holds himself with the dignity a real king would have. He guides his Knights graciously, step into the stage as if he owns it, the line of his back full of pride.

In public, he seems somehow unapproachable, bathed in the spotlight. And Tetora watches him from afar, hands made into fists as the first years from Ryuseitai share worried whispers in the background. 

But there’s no one else now.

So here, Tetora’s fingers dig slightly into his knees, and Tsukasa’s breath hitches. 

“You’re a  _ scoundrel _ .” he whispers, but his hand brushes a lock of hair from his face in a gesture that’s too intimate to feel casual. Tetora laughs, but it’s low - too afraid of breaking the peaceful atmosphere between them with his loud voice.

“I don’t even know what that means.” he admits with a wide smile, hands stroking down Tsukasa’s leg, then up again, brushing the tight with the tip of his fingers. He traces the inside of his knee with a gentle thumb, and Tsukasa’s head leans faintly to the side.

Tetora wonders what image they’re giving right now, his touch still lingering in Tsukasa’s leg, knee diving into the floor. Maybe a king and his royal vassal. 

Tsukasa slips from his seat, slowly getting to his level. His breath fans over Tetora’s cheeks for a second just before he takes his hand between his, and as Tsukasa gets off his glove, Tetora is hit with a sudden wave of affection, almost reverence, and maybe he’s not a vassal, maybe-

A king and his hero.

That sounds more like it.

“Nagumo-kun.” Tsukasa says. And Tetora, almost in a trance, can just nod, waiting. 

Tsukasa brings his hand to his lips. Places a light kiss to his knuckles. And listen, they’ve kissed before, okay? Like lips-to-lips-and-sometimes-tongues contact. Tetora should not be ashamed by something so small, so chaste, so insignificant next to the incommensurable feeling of making out with Suou Tsukasa, and yet- 

Tetora feels his whole face catch  _ fire _ .

“Thank you for your  _ assistance _ .” Tsukasa says. He’s even kind of using his on-stage voice. Tetora thinks that he’s being fanservied- he should probably feel affronted, but is too busy trying to ease his own heart. “I should go now. My Knights might be wondering where am I.”

Tetora knows this is true. They’re in Ryuseitai changing room, too- his own boys will be coming soon, after they’re done showering. Tsukasa was probably here to make sure he wasn’t beating himself up for the lost too much. It’s a curious mixture between paternalistic and sweet. 

He nods. Tsukasa is still holding his hand, and Tetora squeezes his fingers slightly before finally letting go.

Tsukasa leans in to steal one last kiss, just a slight touch over his lips, and then he’s getting up and walking away, to the stage - away from the room, from the moment, from him. He looks back just once before closing the door.

Tetora’s knees feel shaky.

It has nothing to do with the adrenaline anymore.


End file.
